


Strength and Courage

by phoenixgal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixgal/pseuds/phoenixgal
Summary: When the Potters are killed by Voldemort, Augusta Longbottom can't believe they're going to let that little boy go live with muggles. She may not be able to stop them, but she can interfere, just a little. And if doing so means her grandson and the Potter boy end up best friends, well, that's hardly a reason not to meddle.





	1. Prologue, Part One

**Author's Note:**

> WIP, obviously. Working on it though. I'll post as I finish. No warnings needed. Right now my plan is to take it through the end of the books. I have lots of bits written and... ahem... I need to connect them. I suck at titles. I might rename...

Augusta watched as the two toddlers crawled around each other, not so much playing together as playing next to each other. Her grandson was still mostly bald, something that she was trying not to be disappointed by. Frank had had the most lovely golden curls as a baby and she remembered them so fondly. At least he was adorably plump the way babies were, their fat just inexplicably beautiful.

The other boy had a lot of dark brown hair that looked almost black against his pale, brown skin. He took after his father, who, in turn, took after his own father and grandfather. She remembered the baby's great-grandfather, who was a prefect when she was a new first year at Hogwarts, his accent still pronounced from having recently emigrated, his hair looking just as wild as the baby before her. Those Potter genes were strong.

“Would you smile, Frank? You look so dour,” Augusta complained.

“Sorry, Mum. Just rough out there these days.”

“Well, obviously,” Augusta said. “But the whole point of having company over is to put that all behind you for a few hours.” She wasn't ignorant that there was a sort of war on, between the Order of the Phoenix and He Who Must Not Be Named. She had her loyalties and was proud of her son and daughter-in-law, but you didn't talk about the war in polite company. It wasn't how it was done.

“I don't think the Potters are too happy either,” Frank said, glancing to the kitchen, where Alice and Lily were making dinner while James chatted with them. “Sometimes it's impossible to keep up appearances, you know.”

Augusta sighed. “Yes, dear, I know.” She remembered the war of her childhood, when Grindelwald had swept through Europe terrorizing everyone. Would it ever end? Like many of her own generation, she had been afraid to bring children into a world like that, where such a fearsome dark wizard might rise again at any moment and had put it off, not having Frank until later in life. Now she felt old. The young people had all done quite the opposite it seemed, rushing to have their babies as they fought the war. The Potters were practically children.

“They're going into hiding soon, I think,” Frank confided, not looking up from the boys on the floor. “They're not saying much, but I'm pretty sure this is all part of a farewell tour of sorts.”

Sometimes she wished Frank and Alice could go into hiding as well, but it wasn't something she could say. Gryffindor bravery had to rule the day. “You and Alice have important jobs to do,” she observed instead. “I'm proud of you both for refusing to back down.”

“Thanks, Mum. It's different for the Potters. They may be specifically targeted. We're not sure.”

Neville lost hold of the little rolling toy he'd been playing with and began to fuss a little. Harry rolled and sat up, looking at the other toddler with concern.

Frank scooped up his son and twirled him around. As Neville laughed, Frank also began to smile. Augusta heard happy sounds from the kitchen as Lily and Alice laughed about something, probably to do with parenting.

She hoped the war would be over soon so there could be more moments like this.


	2. Prologue, Part Two

“What do you mean he's gone to live with his aunt and uncle? What aunt and uncle?” Augusta demanded.

“Calm down, Aggie,” Minerva said with a deep sigh. “Dumbledore said...”

“I don't give a fizzing whizzbee what that old fart said!” Augusta said, standing up in Minerva's office. “He's daft and we all know it!”

“Aggie!” Minerva said, sounding both annoyed and tired, in that way she had.

“No! I will not calm down. Are you seriously telling me that Dumbledore's left Harry Potter with some muggles? Doesn't he know His supporters are still out there? What are the muggles supposed to do to protect him?”

Minerva shook her head. “I'm also rather concerned, I must admit. Lily's sister and her husband seem ill-fitted to be Harry's guardians, but Dumbledore promised me that there were magical reasons, reasons that needed to remain secret for now.”

Augusta harrumphed. “Poppycock. I'll take the boy myself.”

Minerva's eyes softened. “Aggie, you've just had a child foisted on you already. I hardly think...”

“What's one more?” she challenged. “He'd be a playmate for Neville. They were already playmates.”

“Sit down, Augusta,” Minerva said. She waved her wand and her slightly tarnished tea set piped up with a slight whistling and began to pour two cups of strong tea. “You know how Albus is. Once he's set on something, it's done. And there's no questioning.”

Augusta knew it was true. Dumbledore probably had his reasons, she just didn't like it. She recalled the little boy Neville had spent time with before they had gone into hiding. Her heart went out to him. None of this could be right.

“Dumbledore says he'll be easier to protect with the muggles, and that keeping him away from the fame he'd have in the wizarding world will be good for the boy.”

“Poppycock,” Augusta said again, but she sat and took the tea Minerva offered her. “Any family worth their salt would know how to raise him without puffing up his head over what happened. Whatever it was.”

“Indeed. But this is the way it's going to be.”

“Minnie...” Augusta started to argue, but then decided it was fruitless and sipped the tea. “Well. I suppose he'll just have to live with the muggles then.”

Minerva narrowed her eyes at her old friend. “Augusta, I know that look. What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing at all.”


	3. Chapter One: Sixth Birthday

Harry couldn't remember exactly when the eccentric Mrs. Longbottom from social services first came for her yearly visit, but he knew that by age six, he looked forward to her coming. Not only was it exciting to go out with her and her grandson, but the entire week before she came he only had to do his regular chores and none of the extra ones. The day before his sixth birthday, his Aunt Petunia put sausage on his plate at breakfast and gave him a serving of lasagna at dinner that was nearly as large as his cousin's.

“Now, Harry,” his uncle said with the fake smile that often graced his face when he wanted something, “remember to tell the nice social services lady that we take good care of you.”

Harry nodded. He didn't know quite what that meant, but if saying it meant sausage with breakfast, then he was all right with it.

Of course, Mrs. Longbottom was wearing the oddest hat he'd ever seen when she arrived at the door, a sort of tall feathered thing with a bird on it. She had the sort of accent that seemed to go with rich people, but she didn't dress like any rich person Harry knew of. She had a long black lacy cape despite the fact that it was summer.

Mrs. Longbottom's grandson was waiting for them in a long car driven by a very tall man. The inside of the car seemed strangely roomy, as if you could stretch out and take a nap on the two back seats.

Neville was a round, blond-haired boy who smiled very nervously at Harry when he climbed in next to him in the car. Neville was nearly as round as Harry's cousin Dudley, but somehow being chubby and blond made Dudley look menacing and made Neville look cherubic.

“Hullo, Harry,” Neville practically whispered.

“Neville!” Harry said.

“I didn't know if you would remember me,” Neville said, sliding along the wide seat.

“Hedley, take us to Fortesque's so Harry can have a birthday sundae.”

“I remember you!” Harry said enthusiastically. “You're my best friend.” Then, suddenly thinking that perhaps it was strange that the boy he thought of as his best friend was someone he only saw once a year, he added, “I mean, if you want to be. You don't have to be.”

Neville broke into a wide grin. “That would be brilliant. I've never had a best friend before.”

Everywhere Mrs. Longbottom took Harry was strange and wonderful. The car seemed to move at an alarming pace, but everyone seemed all right about it, so Harry didn't say anything. The ice cream parlour was filled with marvelous flavors and the ice cream arrived at your table when you weren't looking, as if by magic. Then, back at Mrs. Longbottom's house, Neville had toys that were so much better than any of Dudley's radio controlled cars that it was amazing.

“Where are the batteries?” Harry asked of a little flying bird made of metal.

“What are batteries?” Neville asked.

At the end of the day, as the sun began to go down, Mrs. Longbottom sent Neville, sniveling, off to bed with a relative, while she escorted Harry back to the strange car that was larger inside that it should have been.

As she opened the door, Harry paused.

“Come along now, Harry,” she insisted. “Birthday's over.”

He stood there, unsure about what to do.

“Now, Harry.”

He didn't want to disobey Mrs. Longbottom, but Harry was suddenly afraid to get in the car. It would take him back to his aunt and uncle's house, back to his cupboard, back to all the chores they gave him and his cousin's cruel friends who were nowhere near as nice as Neville.

“No,” Harry squeaked. “Please. Please. Please don't make me. Please!” His voice grew as he pleaded. “Please, Mrs. Longbottom. Please. I don't want to. I'll stay here. I'm really helpful. I know how to make eggs. And I can sweep up. My aunt showed me dusting. I can be helpful. I'll sleep on Neville's floor. Please don't make me go back. They don't even like me. They won't miss me at all!”

“Quiet!” she cut through his pleas, but she also shut the car door. “That's enough, Harry.”

Out of nowhere, a little stool appeared and she sat down on it so that she was at eye level with Harry.

Harry desperately wanted to know how she did that, but he was afraid to ask.

“Now. I am going to speak to you in a frank way, Harry. Like an adult. Do you think you can listen?”

He nodded.

“I am not from the social care office. I have no power to keep you, I'm afraid. I come and get you based upon a lie I have told your dreadful aunt and uncle. If I were to not return you, I'm afraid there would be a great deal of trouble.”

Harry burst into tears.

Mrs. Longbottom reached into her funny black dress and pulled out a handkerchief, which she handed to him.

“Yes, dear. It's awful. Let's not mince words, shall we?” She smoothed out her dress as Harry wiped his tears.

“But why do I have to stay with them?” he asked.

“Your parents were killed by a very bad man,” she announced.

“I thought they were in a car accident!”

“No. That is a lie that your aunt and uncle tell you. No, an evil man killed them. To hide you and keep you safe, some people I know have decided that you must stay with your aunt and uncle. It's the only way to keep you safe. I have no say in the matter.”

“Why did he kill them?”

“Because they were exceedingly good and he was very evil,” Mrs. Longbottom said, as if it were very simple. “So, you see, we must take you back. And you mustn't talk about any of this with your aunt and uncle. Do you understand, Harry?”

“No,” he admitted.

“But you'll do it, right?” she asked.

Unsure what else to do, Harry nodded.

“You can do it, Harry Potter,” she said encouragingly. “Strength and courage.”

He wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded nice.

When he got back to Privet Drive, he bit his lips as his aunt asked him about his day, narrowing her eyes at him as he said it was fine.

“Treat you well, do they, boy?” Uncle Vernon asked with a sneer. “The money we waste on social services in this country. Mollycoddling, I tell you.”

“Not really,” Harry said suddenly. “They weren't very nice at all. I had to wait with all the other children. And they promised me birthday cake and I didn't even get any.”

His uncle seemed pleased and Harry had to stop himself from grinning. I have a secret, he thought. He pictured Neville and Mrs. Longbottom and didn't even feel sad about getting shut into his cupboard that evening.


	4. Tenth Birthday

He knew that he needed to not bounce on his feet in pure excitement as he waited for Mrs. Longbottom to arrive at the door. His aunt and uncle had already made several comments about how they shouldn't have to fuss with social services anymore and didn't they know that Harry was lucky to have whatever they gave him.

It was difficult to help though. As he made breakfast, he accidentally knocked over the salt, spilling it across the counter. Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to yell, but then snapped it shut again. “Clean it up,” she snipped instead.

“That's bad luck,” Dudley declared. “Betcha he'll knock something else over.”

Uncle Vernon chuckled from behind his morning paper.

Harry grabbed all three of the plates, balancing them along his arm as he tried to bring them to the table. She would be there any minute. And Neville. And he didn't even need eggs and bacon. He could even forgo his toast. There would be Fortesque's or proper birthday cake. And there would be some sort of a meat pie, he was sure. Mrs. Longbottom always had a meat pie.

He managed to set each of the plates on the table without dropping them. Dudley, who was probably disappointed that he hadn't had a disaster yet, stuck out his foot right as Harry began to step back to the counter.

He went sprawling onto the floor, banging into the kitchen island. Dudley cackled. Uncle Vernon looked disgusted. “Can't you even walk properly, boy?”

Harry pulled himself up, feeling for his glasses. When he found them, he realized they'd split and broken across the bridge again. Worse, there was a crack in the corner of one of the cheap lenses. He could see it when he put it on like a monocle, feeling completely absurd.

The doorbell rang.

“Go get it then,” Uncle Vernon said. “Have you mandated social services day out.”

“With all the cripples and freaks,” Dudley added.

No one shushed him.

However, when Aunt Petunia saw that his glasses were broken, she looked distressed and ran for the sticky tape, binding them back together as the doorbell sounded again.

“Well we can hardly be held responsible for Harry being so clumsy,” Uncle Vernon protested.

“Yeah,” Harry said cynically. “Guess not.”

The doorbell almost sounded more insistent.

“I guess I'll go now,” Harry said, trying not to sound too eager.

When he finally had his dismissal, Harry practically bolted to the door.

There stood Mrs. Longbottom, looking as eccentric as ever, in a hat so big Harry didn't think it would have fit in his cupboard. “It never does to keep people waiting, Harry,” she announced as he shut the door to number 12 behind him.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “I didn't mean to.”

“Very well,” she said, with a put upon sigh that Harry knew wasn't serious. “Whatever has happened to your spectacles?”

“That's why I couldn't come right out. My cousin tripped me and I fell. They broke again. Worse this time.”

Standing just outside the car door, Mrs. Longbottom pulled out the little wooden stick that Harry now knew was her wand, the beginning of amazing and wonderful things every time she whisked him away.

“Turn here,” she said. Pointing at his glasses, she said, “Reparo!” The bit of sticky tape unwound itself and Harry could tell that they were fused again. “Speculo fortentia!” The wand did a sort of complicated dance in front of Harry's eyes. “There. They should be impervious to the interference of your meddling cousin.”

She opened the back door to the car, revealing Neville in the back seat. “Harry!”

Harry launched himself headfirst onto the cushioned bench and into Neville.

The day was pure delights after that. First there was impossible cake at a shop on Moor Alley, just off Diagon, where Mrs. Longbottom said they were safer from meddling eyes. The year before there had been a fuss when someone asked if he was Harry Potter and after that, Mrs. Longbottom had insisted they stay out of people's way. Harry hardly minded, not when every bite of cake he took was a different, delectable flavor and tiny chocolate soldiers staged a battle atop the table for himself and Neville. 

Then there was a trip to a garden that Neville liked, where the flowers could actually sing. There was swimming. Harry had to wear his underpants, but Mrs. Longbottom waved her wand at them and they looked just like trunks, so Harry supposed it didn't matter. There were also little boats that went wherever you wanted them to go. Neville and Harry raced theirs. Harry won and purposefully capsized his so he could swim over and pull Neville in as well.

“Next year?” Harry asked. “But… what if you're wrong?”

“It's n...n...not possible,” Neville said. “I was w...worried for a long time that I wouldn't go. I thought I might be a squib.”

“What's that?”

“Someone with no magic but born in a wizard family. But then… well, I told you about my Uncle and falling out the window.”

“It sounds marvelous,” Harry said, again.

“Not if you were there,” Neville said. They had talked about this the year before. Harry always remembered everything Neville said.

“But what if I'm that… that thing?”

“You're Harry Potter! You can't be!”

“But what if I am?”

“Well, have you ever done anything magic? Accidental magic?”

Harry thought back to all the times his hair had refused to be cut or when he'd mysteriously gotten away from Dudley and Piers and their friends at school. “Could those things be magic?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” Neville said. “See! And when we get to Hogwarts… well… you'll see. You'll have lots of friends then.” His expression suddenly looked a little wistful.

Harry, realizing what Neville was thinking, turned on the dock to face him directly. “Neville Longbottom, you will always, always be my best friend. I don't care who else is at school if we go...”

“When,” Neville said.

“When we go,” Harry said.

“But, you won't need me,” Neville said.

“What are you talking about?” Harry exclaimed. “You're worth a hundred, a million of those other students. To me, anyway.”

Neville didn't say anything, so Harry pushed him back in the lake and followed him in. For a moment, Neville was gone, but then he rose out of the water and dunked Harry under, laughing.

“Okay!” Harry came up sputtering.

“Boys!” Mrs. Longbottom called. “Time to come out!”

It was more somber after that. She fed them both an amazing supper on a picnic blanket. She produced the whole thing out of a tiny picnic basket, including all the food and the full plates and silver. Harry thought if he ate Mrs. Longbottom's cooking every day, he'd probably be a bit chubby like Neville and he wouldn't mind it a bit. Neville looked full, which was something Harry often longed to be.

Harry wished he could have appreciated the meal more, but the summer sun was beginning to set and his birthday was coming to an end. He would have to go back, just like he always did. Back to the real world. Sometimes, he had trouble believing during the year that any of this had really happened.

Neville's Uncle Algie, who apparently worked at the gardens and the lake, appeared to take him home.

“Say goodbye for now,” Mrs. Longbottom instructed them.

Harry stood up, blinking back tears.

“Buck up,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “Just get it over with.”

Neville surged at him, wrapping his arms around him. “Next year,” he promised. “Next year. And we'll be in the same house, even if it's Hufflepuff. Even if it's Slytherin.”

Harry, who knew a little about the Hogwarts houses, didn't think he'd be in Slytherin. “Until next year,” he said back.

He was absolutely not crying as he went back to the funny car Mrs. Longbottom always borrowed on his birthday. If his face was wet, it was because he was still a bit damp from swimming.

The ride back was in silence. When they pulled up in front of number 12 Privet Drive, Mrs. Longbottom turned to him. “Strength and courage, Harry,” she said. “I know you and my grandson have grand school plans. Next summer, I shall take you to get your schoolbooks.”

Harry nodded, feeling angry and empty inside.

“You are as good as your parents,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “And just as strong. You'll endure it. And then the beginning of your life in our world will get underway.”

Harry nodded, feeling a little buoyed by the praise.

“You can do it, Harry Potter,” Mrs. Longbottom said as she opened the car door. She always told him this and somehow, it always worked. He wondered if maybe they were magic words.


	5. Eleventh Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers for the kudos, guys. I'm going to assume this means we all ship Harry/Neville more than ever. Go forth and write fic for them so I can read it. Seriously. You have your orders.

Harry spent the weeks before his birthday desperately trying to get his Hogwarts letter away from his aunt and uncle.

“It's my letter! It was addressed to me! It's my...” he stopped, unsure about what to say. Mrs. Longbottom had always emphasized that he should never let on that he knew about the wizarding world to muggles, even his aunt and uncle.

“What would you know about it?” Uncle Vernon sneered, shoving dozens of the letter into the bin.

“Nothing. Just that it's mine!” Harry insisted.

It was something to behold how tenacious the letters were. In school the previous year, the teacher had been especially keen on science, giving lots of demonstrations. With a hose on a slope in the school carpark, they'd spent an exciting and messy hour trying to stop the water from getting to the bottom. Even Dudley and his mates had been excited to try and beat the water. But before the end of class, it had soaked past all the sand and rocks they'd tried to stop it with.

“See that? Water always wins,” the teacher announced. “In the end.”

Harry was pretty sure magic would always win in the end as well, especially as the letters came pouring through the mail grate.

There was a moment that he started to worry. As his uncle dragged them all to a stormy island to try and escape the flood of magical letters, even Dudley seemed to think his father had gone mad.

“How will I go spend my birthday with my social worker if we're out here?” Harry tried as the boat carried them to their destination.

“Oh,” said Aunt Petunia, who looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there, the haughty look she usually missing. “That's a good point, dear. Surely… There could be trouble.”

“They can't tell us when to go on vacation!” Uncle Vernon insisted. “It's a trip! Can't a family get away from it all?”

“Of course, dear,” Aunt Petunia said.

Harry wasn't quite sure what Mrs. Longbottom would do if he wasn't home when she turned up. However, he was saved from having to worry about it because a giant with a great curly beard and a thick Scottish accent burst in and hand delivered his letter.

“Yer a wizard, Harry,” the giant, whose name turned out to be Hagrid, announced.

“I know!” Harry said, breaking his silence on the matter at last.

The upheaval that this revelation caused among the Dursleys might have been greater than the final arrival of the letter. At least it was until Hagrid gave Dudley a pig tail with a wand hidden in an umbrella.

Hagrid, it turned out, was the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. The next morning, he took Harry to wizarding London and showed him the way into Diagon Alley from the muggle street. Harry was thrilled. He was especially thrilled by the ride through Gringott's and the discovery that he had actual money.

“I need to send an owl,” Harry said, as Hagrid tried to shuffle him off to get Hogwart's robes. Harry was less sure about wizarding fashion. Neville had some truly strange clothes. Still, if everyone else wore them, he figured he would as well.

“Er… don' know about that, Harry,” Hagrid said. “Who's the owl fer? Ya need to get yer robes and all yer supplies.”

They stood in the bustling road. Harry could see a skinny boy with pale blond hair getting his robes inside the shop. He wasn't sure what he should say. He liked Hagrid, but he didn't know him, not like he knew Mrs. Longbottom.

Before he could work out how to explain, a large boy came running up the alley and practically barreled into Harry. Only Hagrid's presence kept Neville from actually ramming into Harry. The enormous man plucked the back of Neville's funny suit, briefly lifting him off the ground in an effort to keep him from Harry.

“It's all right, Hagrid!” Harry said. “Neville's my best friend!”

After that, Hagrid said, “Don' know 'bout this,” repeatedly to Mrs. Longbottom as she took charge of the proceedings. Neville babbled on to Harry about finding his aunt and uncle's house empty and location spells. Harry tried his best to tell Neville about the unending stream of letters as he also tried to take in all the shops he'd never been allowed inside for fear that people might recognize him.

Recognize him, they did. But Harry was too wrapped up in seeing Neville for the first time in a year to pay much attention. At the Owl Emporium, Hagrid bought him a beautiful snowy owl and Mrs. Longbottom repeatedly advised Neville to get a toad, though Neville looked dubious.

“Nothing wrong with a toad,” Hagrid said. “Perfectly fine creature.” He pointed to one in an up high terrarium that looked different from the rest, with little spots. “He's a good 'un.” So Neville went home with a toad who appeared to like him very much.

“Now,” Mrs. Longbottom declared, once all the school things were purchased. “We'll be taking Harry along with us for a few days.”

“Days!” Harry exclaimed.

“Yes. I'll return you to your aunt and uncle's thereafter,” Mrs. Longbottom declared. “But considering everything that happened, we'll give them a bit of a chance to cool off, shall we?” Harry felt like he was going to burst with joy. No Dursleys for a few days?

Hagrid sputtered. He said something about Dumbledore and Harry bit his lip, looking between the two adults. Hagrid was intimidatingly large. However, Mrs. Longbottom didn't seem a bit cowed. “Yes, yes,” she told the giant groundskeeper. “Come along, boys.”


	6. Secret Clubhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, the number of kudos on this tiny fic is intimidating me! I know it's not a crazy number, but almost no one ships these two! So, with that in mind, I guess... some things...
> 
> If you are hoping Augusta Longbottom will be perfect in this fic, please don't freak out because she will not be at all (I'm not referring to this chapter specifically, just the resolutions I have in mind). In general, I don't write perfect rescuers to tie things up neatly. I like flawed characters who try to be good. On the same note, this won't be a Dumbledore bashing fic either. It will be... Dumbledore critical, I suppose. He's not perfect either. Also, this will not be a pro-Draco fic. Just... in case you love him. He's interesting and all, but I do not. Sorry. And, while there will be a number of changes, this fic will hug against canon for awhile before heading off the rails. Just so you have a sense of what to expect. Also, my plan is to leave the rating as T all the way through. I just... with more kudos faster than I'm used to on a tiny snippet of beginning, I got nervous about everyone's expectations!
> 
> I don't have a perfect record with my WIP's, but I'm not terrible either. I'll try to be good. February is my most busy work month (and is also February, which is a month so horrible that even the ancient Romans shortened it for its own good) but I'll see what I can do for you.
> 
> Finally, if you have not read my other T rated Harry/Neville fic The Young Wizard's Guide to Growing Up, that is a thing that exists.

Harry had been to the Longbottoms' before when he visited briefly for birthdays. It felt like the large country house was straight out of a telly programme of the sort Aunt Petunia liked, where the seemingly perfect people of a small village were all actually murderers or having torrid affairs. It had a dusty walkway and ivy growing up the sides past rows and rows of windows.

Harry had a delicious meal piled with summer vegetables that came from the garden in the back and was served by a little house elf named Teemie. Mrs. Longbottom presented Harry with a bed to sleep in that, for the first time he could remember, sat in a room that was big enough for a proper bed and dresser. Mrs. Longbottom waved her wand and a stack of new clothes appeared on the dresser, clothes that fit him properly.

“Do I really not have to go back?” Harry asked after Neville had said goodnight, his face a bright grin as he went into the next room.

“I didn't say that,” Mrs. Longbottom said sharply, and Harry recoiled. “Don't look like that. You can stay the week. But then you very much have to return to your aunt and uncle's dreadful care.”

“Oh,” Harry said, trying not to feel disappointed.

Mrs. Longbottom gave him a strange look, like she was about to say something, but nodded and told him goodnight.

The bed was too soft, the room too big. But eventually Harry fell asleep happy.

The next day, Neville showed him the backyard, where he had a little swingset Harry recalled from a previous birthday visit, around age eight. The swings swung themselves and the teeter totter only needed one person to bob up and down.

“I'm kind of too old for it now,” Neville declared.

“Hey, we have wands now,” Harry said. “Maybe we can make the swings go higher?”

They weren't sure if their efforts were actually having any effect, but it was fun. So was wandering back to the old, stone border at the edge of the Longbottom property. The low fence had a funny feeling, which Neville said was protective charms. On the way, they encountered a little colony of garden gnomes and two different sorts of pixies, which Neville seemed to think was pretty normal, but which Harry thought was rather special. Neville always seemed so pleased that he could show off anything.

They let Neville's new toad go in the creek and argued over his name. Neville wanted to name him Trevor, but Harry wasn't sure it sounded magical enough. They combed through their new textbooks and Harry chose Hedwig as a name for his owl, but Neville rejected a lot of names that sounded really excellent to Harry, like Ignatius and Kaspian.

When they went inside for lunch, Neville asked if he could take Harry to the village. Harry was dying to see an all wizarding village. It sounded exciting. However, Mrs. Longbottom immediately said no.

“Stay inside the old wards on our property,” she instructed them.

“But, Gran...” Neville started.

“No arguments,” she said firmly.

Later, Harry used Neville's magic tree climbing ladder to go up the trees in the back. Neville stayed down below because he didn't much like heights. “I don't know why she had to be so strict about it,” Neville said. “I've been allowed to go by myself for two years.”

“Must be me,” Harry said. “But this is pretty great here.” He was amazed by the feeling of being up high in the trees.

“Yeah,” Neville said. “Harry… can I show you something?”

“Sure.” Harry climbed down the ladder, which was still suspended in midair.

Neville led him to the far edge of the property, near where they had let Trevor the toad jump a little in the tiny trickle of stream that came down through the mossy ground. At first, Harry didn't see it, but then Neville's foot tapped on a rock and some of the rocks by the edge of the wall moved aside, rearranging themselves into a little entrance.

“Come on,” Neville said, sounding nervous.

Harry ducked his head beneath the archway of rocks and stepped down the rough path. “What is this place?”

It was dim inside, but he could tell it wasn't very big. There were a couple of worn benches and lots of old bottles.

Neville pursed his lips together and pointed at a little carved wooden sign.

“Frank and Gerry's Secret Clubhouse,” Harry read aloud.

“He was my dad,” Neville whispered. “Frank.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He'd been wondering for ages about Neville's parents. “What… what happened to him? Your dad?”

“The same one who killed your parents,” Neville said. “He Who Must Not Be Named.”

“He killed yours too?” Harry asked.

Neville shook his head. “They're not dead. A woman, a follower of his named Bellatrix Lestrange. She tortured them. They're in a ward at St. Mungo's.”

“The hospital,” Harry said. “How'd you know this was here?”

“My dad's best friend mentioned it once. He came for a visit and said something about a clubhouse out here. I spent all summer two years ago looking for it.”

“What do you do here?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Neville said. “Sometimes I just come and think about him. What it must have been like growing up. I mean, I know a bit. Gran's like my mum, I guess, and she was his mum.”

Harry looked around some more. There were tattered blankets in one spot, an old shirt in another. He saw what looked like a chessboard on the floor.

“I thought, you know,” Neville shrugged. “I thought we could take it over. Just a bit. It could be ours.”

Harry nodded.

That night they went to bed after whispers of grand plans to make over the clubhouse.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he could hear voices down below, drifting up the big front staircase. He knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but he didn't seem to be able to help himself as he wandered quietly down the hall to the top of the stairs.

“… should have known better, Aggie!”

“Better than to question the great and powerful Dumbledore?” Harry heard Mrs. Longbottom snort.

“There are forces here that even I don't fully understand,” said the first voice. It was a woman with a Scottish accent, though nowhere near as thick as Hagrid's. She sounded older.

“Because you're afraid to ask questions!” Mrs. Longbottom thundered.

There was a shuffling noise and the voices moved away for a moment then resumed.

“...not going to just stand by,” said Mrs. Longbottom. “You have no idea how horrid those muggles are.”

“He must go home, Aggie.”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “I've already told him not to get too comfortable.”

“And we found all the spells,” the voice said. “They'll have to go.”

There was a long pause, during which a movement behind Harry made him jump. When he turned around, it was just Neville, wearing very formal striped pajamas. Harry put a finger to his lips and Neville nodded. They stood there silently.

“… would do it again if I had to,” Mrs. Longbottom was saying. “And Dumbledore should have too. If not for him, I could have done a lot more!”

“He's trying to keep him safe!”

“There's more to safety for a child than simply not being killed. Those spells kept those muggles in check and they were necessary.” There was a pause. “Harry and Neville, you will come down here this instant!”

The boys looked at each other and in the morning light, Harry could see the same look he was sure he had mirrored on Neville's face. His cheeks turned red and his eyes were wide with fear.

“Right now please, boys!” Mrs. Longbottom said, her voice ringing through the house.

They both shuffled down the steps. When they reached the bottom, they saw Neville's grandmother, already in her full dress, though without a hat, talking with a tall, thin woman of about her age wearing plain, dark robes that were long and seemed slightly out of place in the summer weather.

“This is Professor McGonagall,” Mrs. Longbottom said. Harry felt very formal and wondered suddenly if you were supposed to bow or something in the wizarding world. A couple of people had bowed to him, after all. He glanced at Neville, who was perfectly still and decided to imitate him instead of making a fool out of himself by bowing in pajamas.

The woman rose from her chair. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, I'm pleased to meet you. I do hope you'll be more polite when you get to Hogwarts than to listen in on others' conversations. Good day.”

“I'll see you to the door, Minnie,” Mrs. Longbottom said. Harry could well see that they kept talking at the door, looking just as annoyed as ever, but even though they were hardly a room away, he couldn't hear a word.

“Silencing spell,” Neville whispered.

Harry nodded, as if it were normal. It was, or it would be, he supposed.

The two women hugged, as if they hadn't just been having a spectacular argument and the professor was gone.

“She's the head of Gryffindor house,” Neville whispered. “She was...”

“Go get dressed and meet me at breakfast,” Mrs. Longbottom ordered.

Harry was curious what else Professor McGonagall was, but they were too busy getting dressed for him to find out.

At the table, Mrs. Longbottom waved Teemie away with breakfast, telling the elf to wait. “Let us have a candid chat,” she announced.

Neville looked even more surprised than before. Harry enjoyed seeing his blue eyes wide on his face.

“Harry, I told you that your parents were killed by a very evil wizard, the same wizard who destroyed the lives of Neville's parents.”

“He Who Must Not Be Named,” Neville said, very quietly.

Mrs. Longbottom nodded.

“But,” Harry said… “Why can he not be named?”

For a moment, Harry thought he was going to be in trouble, but then Mrs. Longbottom looked strangely happy. “Yes, Harry, that's it. Ask questions! Demand answers! Show some backbone!”

Harry was confused for a moment, but then he said, “So?”

“Names can have power. This one has that.”

“So he's still out there?” Harry asked.

“No,” Neville said.

“Yes,” his grandmother replied.

Neville looked horrified. “He's gone. Harry defeated him.”

Harry turned to look at his friend. “I didn't do anything!”

“No, you didn't,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “The night he went to curse your parents, something went wrong and he went into hiding. But I don't think he can be killed, not easily.”

“People think he's gone,” Neville said, looking down at the large table instead of at his grandmother.

“They do,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “But I know differently. And so does Dumbledore. And now the two of you do as well.” She took a deep breath. “Listen to me, Harry. I have long suspected that the reason Dumbledore insisted you live with your aunt and uncle – and make no mistake, because he has insisted on it quite strongly – is that your mother sacrificed her life for yours.”

Harry felt a strange tug inside himself. “She… how do you know?” His voice felt funny, as if it didn't want to come out.

“I don't know for sure. But that's my guess. There is old magic, very old magic at work here. The protection her sacrifice gave you might have extended to her family as well. And it might have been strong enough to send He Who Must Not Be Named away. But he's still out there. And he will want to take revenge on you as soon as he gains enough strength.”

“Maybe he won't,” Neville said. His eyes fixed intently on Harry before darting back down to the table.

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “But don't count on it.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “I mean… how? How is he able to still be alive? And if he was, wouldn't he have shown himself by now?”

“There is magic at work,” Mrs. Longbottom repeated. “That scar on your forehead...”

Harry, seemingly possessed, reached up and rubbed at his scar absently.

“Yes, that scar. It has a magic of its own as well. A magic I don't understand yet at all. But I will. There are ways that a wizard can trade their body for immortality. Dark ways. There's the philosopher's stone, the immortal apple, a tea made of mushrooms grown in the fairylands, spells that can split the soul… I don't know what method he has used, but rest assured he found a way to cheat death.”

“But if… if he did and he's coming for me...” Harry said, thinking about the ramifications of a mad wizard after him for the rest of his life. What kind of a life would that even be?

“Strength and courage,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “Buck up. It doesn't do to hide or pretend. This is why the two of you must be ever vigilant. You must report to me anything that might be suspicious.”

Harry found so many things about the wizarding world suspicious, but he didn't say anything, just nodded. So did Neville. Teemie the elf brought in their food and soon Mrs. Longbottom had left them to summer pursuits.

The day was slower somehow, and by afternoon, it was raining. Neville showed Harry gobstones and Akenaton, two wizarding games, but neither of them said much. After lunch, despite the rain, Harry suddenly wanted to go out.

Neville got Teemie to give them self-lighting candles. The two of them dashed through the downpour to the secret hiding place, trying to keep the wicks on the candles dry as they ran. Harry thought this was one case when a plastic sack might have come in quite handy, but he supposed when he was old enough, he'd know a spell to light the candles.

Inside the clubhouse, they closed up the doorway by turning the sign and watching the rocks replace themselves behind them to seal them inside.

“What should we do?” Harry asked. They had such grand plans the night before, to clean it up and stash butterbeer there and lots of secret artifacts, though they weren't sure what those would be exactly.

“We should make an oath,” Neville declared. “A magic oath. I want to make a magic oath to you. I… I think...” he stuttered slightly, as he always did when he was nervous. “I think my father would have done that. He was… he was an auror. He fought dark wizards. So did my mum.” 

Neville drew himself up, which didn't make him especially taller, but did make his pudgy middle stick out a bit more. He took out his new wand, which had never made any real magic, unless it had really made the swings go higher, though Harry was doubtful. “I, Neville Longbottom swear to protect your life with my own, Harry Potter!”

To Harry's great surprise, and probably Neville's as well from the look of surprise on his face, Neville's wand flared with a warm blue light that wrapped itself around Neville's arm.

For a moment, Neville looked completely panicked. He'd clearly meant to make a bold declaration, but neither of them had quite expected this. But Harry, not sure how he knew what to do, reached out and grasped Neville's hand. The blue light wrapped around his arm as well. For a moment, perhaps just a second, it seemed to be everywhere and felt warm and made Harry feel fuzzy headed. Then it dissipated and was gone. Harry let go of Neville's hand.

Neville looked like he'd just gotten a chill. He shivered in his soggy summer clothes.

“You great knob!” Harry exclaimed. “You didn't have to swear a magic oath! We're best friends. Of course we'll protect each other!”

“I just...” Neville shivered. “F… f… felt like I needed to do something. I didn't know that would happen!”

The two of them suddenly burst into laughter.

Outside, the rain had let up, so they went dashing back to the house, where Teemie fussed over them and hid their wet clothes, making them change.

For the rest of the week, Mrs. Longbottom didn't mention He Who Must Not Be Named, or Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore. Harry and Neville did tidy the secret clubhouse that had belonged to his father, as well as playing lots of gobstones and trying to make the swings actually go all the way around.

And when he had to go back to the Dursleys, Harry didn't even feel so bad. He hugged Neville and promised to see him in a little over a month.


End file.
